


A How-To Guide

by YellowMustard



Category: Dear Evan Hansen - Pasek & Paul/Levenson
Genre: Artist Connor Murphy (Dear Evan Hansen), Boys In Love, Established Friendship, First Kiss, Fluff, Heidi is a good mom, Humor, M/M, Tree Bros, Yes I know I said two shot but I lied ok this thing just keeps growing, and heidi KNOWS, connor is pining and clueless, evan is pining and clueless, getting together fic, pick up "artists", three shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-14
Updated: 2019-12-22
Packaged: 2021-01-30 14:26:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,129
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21429694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YellowMustard/pseuds/YellowMustard
Summary: Evan finds himself nodding away like a bobblehead as Connor keeps muttering about the video, about how sexist and revolting and damaging the whole concept of pick-up artists is. Fake. Fucked up. Awful.And then, without looking up from his phone screen, he mumbles:"That's not even how you do it, anyway."And that... catches Evan's interest.(OR: Evan and Connor watch a pick-up artist compilation video. Connor has a LOT to say on the subject. A three-part story.)
Relationships: Evan Hansen/Connor Murphy
Comments: 122
Kudos: 507





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So OK. This was MEANT to be a oneshot. 
> 
> But my brain just...won't shut the heck up, apparently. So we're gonna just roll with it and extend it over two chapters. Whoops.
> 
> The second chapter is already part-way done so it shouldn't take too long to get out to you guys! Thank you AGAIN to literally anyone and everyone who's been reading my work. It's SO SOOO appreciated honestly. 
> 
> My tumblr is @theyellowestmustard and I love chatting to new faces! 
> 
> TW: Talk of pick-up artists being sleazy, negging, just general misogyny (NOT from our boys though, NEVER from our boys!) VERY brief mention of assault. This all probably sounds very depressing but I can ASSURE you this is the lightest of fluff/humor.
> 
> Thank you all for reading ilysm <3

* * *

_Hey._

_You have to read this shit._

It's not a particularly happy sentence in itself. 

In fact, in any other context Evan would find it kind of intimidating.

It's equal parts vague and demanding, and it reads almost like a threat, and that's ordinarily enough to set his anxiety spinning off in all different directions. Never mind the fact that it's sent as a _Snapchat message_. Because Evan struggles to understand tone and mood in text messages, and second guesses what the person means, and if it's on Snapchat then eventually the message is going to disappear, and maybe the sender _wanted_ it to disappear because it's something bad, something bad _about Evan_ that they don't want him to have a record of, and he can't screenshot the chat because they'll _know_, and…

But getting messages from Connor Murphy isn't like that.

It never has been, even at the very beginning.

_Hey._

_You have to read this shit._

Below it is a link to a thread called Ask Reddit: What is the weirdest Glitch-In-The-Matrix experience you've had that you can't explain?

Evan shifts in his desk chair, grinning at his phone, and tucks one foot up underneath himself in anticipation.

Connor's always sending Evan creepy shit like this.

Oddly enough, Evan kind of loves it. It's nice to be freaked out over things that are like. External. Separate from Evan and all the daily intrusive bullshit his brain feeds him.

Evan opens the link and starts reading.

His phone buzzes again.

**Con:** did u read it yet

Evan gives a long suffering sigh.

"Jesus, give me a minute, will you?" he says out loud.

The untidy heap of long limbs and messy hair rolls over on Evan's bed. Laughs.

**Con:** do u think that story about the time skip is real?

Evan rolls his eyes.

"Still not up to that yet."

**Con:** hurry up

Evan shifts his gaze from his phone screen to his absolute best friend in the entire world, who's sprawled out on top of the covers. Connor tilts his head to look at Evan at almost exactly the same time, and gives him an impish little grin, which is a look Evan has come to identify as 'I'm very aware I'm being an asshole right now but I'm not sorry about it'.

Evan grins back, then returns his attention to his phone screen.

He supposes most people would probably find this weird. 

It_ is_ weird. A bit.

The fact that Connor and Evan frequently hang out in the same room but they text instead of just…actually talking, because sometimes neither of them have the mental energy to hold a proper face-to-face conversation. The fact that Connor Murphy actually looks comfortable, at home in Evan's space, when he rarely even looks comfortable in his own skin. 

Hell, the fact that Evan and Connor are friends at all. Even Evan struggles to understand that one most of the time.

Not that he's _complaining_. Not at all.

Being shoved by Connor Murphy might have been the best thing that's ever happened to him.

Because one way or another, it led them to this. This strange comfortable silence, only broken by occasional quiet laughter, the string of messages sent back and forth; YouTube videos and memes and dumb jokes.

Evan has someone now.

Evan thinks there's nothing in the world quite like it.

He realizes, too late, that he's actually not read the Reddit thing like he's supposed to have done, because he's caught up in his own head again. Which is pretty normal for Evan, to be fair. 

What's probably not so normal is that Evan finds himself, not for the first time, wondering if Connor's hair is as soft as it looks.

His fingers itch with the urge to touch it and see.

**Con:** some of these people have to be making this shit up for the gold, right?

Right. Fuck. The Reddit thread. The one Evan's meant to be reading. The one Evan's completely platonic best friend has sent him. His friend. His friend who he absolutely _doesn't_ think about touching, or kissing, because that would be inappropriate, and _gross_ because Evan and Connor are _just friends_.

**Con:** u good?

And fuck, _fuck_, Evan still hasn't answered, out loud or otherwise, and he's being weird, and Connor's going to--

Evan's phone buzzes once more.

But it's not Connor this time. 

"Hold up, Jared's sent me something," Evan says, because it's not a lie, and also happens to be the perfect excuse as to why he's been sitting in silence like a moron for the past three minutes.

"Oh god," says Connor, and his eyes shine with amusement even as he wrinkles his nose in disgust. "I'd better prepare myself."

Evan taps open the message just as Connor hauls himself off of Evan's bed, padding across the room to look at Evan's phone over his shoulder.

Jared's sent a link to an Instagram video. 

Along with the message:

_hey maybe u should try this shit out, you'll have Sad Boi Beanpole sucking ur dick in no time ;p_

Evan frantically clicks away from the message and into the video before Connor reaches him.

For fuck's sake, Jared.

Connor leans over the back of Evan's chair, propping his chin on his folded arms.

Evan prays Jared hasn't sent him like. Porn, or something.

Thankfully, the guy in the video is fully clothed.

He's conventionally attractive, Evan supposes. Not really Evan's type, but still. He's blonde, well-dressed, tall.

But as the clip plays out, Evan finds himself physically recoiling away from the screen.

Because apparently, this guy considers himself something of a 'pick up artist'.

The whole thing is so obviously fake. But it's awful nonetheless. It's a long "hidden camera" compilation of this complete douche approaching random girls on the street, trying all these revolting pick up lines, most of which aren't even clever or funny, just...sleazy. In some clips, he cuts out the middleman altogether, walks up to girls and just kisses them, without even asking, which makes Evan actually wince because that's... extremely problematic at best, and straight up assault at worst. There's one or two clips where he tries to ask girls out by flaunting this flashy-looking sports car, then calls them gold diggers and drives away if they go for it.

It's...completely gross, honestly. Fake or not. 

The clip comes to an end, and Evan is quick to tap out of Instagram before it loops around and plays again.

"That was...um…"

Disgusting. Horrible. Very Jared.

But Evan kind of...nopes out of saying what he _really_ thinks at the last minute, because.

Because what if Connor doesn't agree?

Evan thinks he knows Connor pretty damn well. And he's fairly sure Connor wouldn't find a video like that very funny, either.

But he wants to wait and see what Connor says first. Just in case.

There's a long, uncomfortable silence.

Then Connor lets out this gust of air and goes:

"Jared, what the _fuck_?"

"I know," says Evan, though he's not completely sure what he's just agreed to. 

"That was so fucking sexist and gross," Connor mutters, heading back over to his spot on Evan's bed, and Evan feels his shoulders relax, feels a quiet sigh of relief escape him.

"I...I know, right?" Evan manages. "Like...like, borderline misogynistic." 

"Not _even_ borderline, dude," Connor argues, shaking his head, looking completely appalled, and kind of...pissed off, actually. "If someone pulled a stunt like that with Zoe I'd fucking deck 'em."

"I mean...it’s obviously staged. People don’t really do that, right?"

"People _might_ if they watch this shit and think it’s _real_," Connor says vehemently. "Like. _Kids_ watch this stuff, you know? Kids watch bullshit like this and think _that's_ how you get someone to like you. It's so fucked up."

And _fuck_, Evan hadn't even_ thought_ about that. 

He finds himself nodding away like a bobblehead as Connor keeps muttering, going _that's so fucked_ and _I can't believe people actually post videos like that. And get paid for them too, probably, fuck. _

Connor cares, is the thing.

He actually, genuinely cares about stuff like this.

It's one of the many things about Connor that makes Evan's knees feel like jelly and his palms start to sweat. The fact that he cares so deeply. And about so much.

Evan glues his eyes to his phone to stop himself from staring at him.

Connor finally finishes grumbling to himself, and he gets his phone out again, idly tapping away at it as he rolls over on his side, facing Evan.

And, without looking up from the screen, he mumbles:

"That's not even how you do it, anyway."

And that...catches Evan's interest.

Because what does Connor know about asking someone out? Has Connor ever asked anyone out? Evan knows he's single right now, but...has Connor ever had a girlfriend? Or like, a boyfriend?

It's not something they've ever really talked about. 

Evan sets his phone down on his desk and swivels in his chair to face Connor. His fingers find their way to his lips automatically, and he's biting his nails before he can stop himself, regarding Connor with an emotion he can't name. Curiosity, maybe. But not quite. 

"Well...how do you do it, then?" Evan blurts out.

Connor lets out a soft, breathy laugh.

"If...if I knew I'd probably be dating someone, right?" 

"But," Evan persists, and he's not sure why it's important to him, all of a sudden, why he wants a proper answer so badly, but he does. "But if you actually liked someone, I mean. How would you…?"

Something in Connor's eyes shifts, changes. His gaze is still fixed on his phone, but it's almost like he's looking past it; like he's not actually paying any attention to what's on the screen at all.

"If I actually liked someone," Connor murmurs to himself. He says it like he's testing the words out, with the vaguest hint of amusement in his voice, like he’s in on some joke that Evan doesn’t understand.

Evan’s about to ask what’s up, but Connor seems to shake off...whatever it is that’s going on in his head, and suddenly he’s all business, pursing his lips and sitting upright on Evan’s bed, his phone tossed aside haphazardly.

“OK,” he says. “So like, first of all, you have to get to know someone. And I mean.._.actually_ get to know them. Like...their likes and dislikes and hobbies and aspirations and stuff, you know? Actually see if you’re compatible first. Maybe it’s just me, but...I don’t get why you’d just pick up some random person on the street. Not if you want like...a lasting relationship, anyway.”

Evan nods slowly. Because yeah, he completely agrees with all that. 

“And like,” Connor continues, and he’s kind of on a roll now, “Listen when they talk. And ask questions. Show a genuine interest in the stuff that’s important to them. Even if it’s not something that’s like, your thing. Don’t brush them off. Pay attention to that shit, and not just to get into their pants, either, because that’s fucking manipulative and gross.”

Connor scrunches up his nose a little. Evan keeps nodding.

“And that shouldn’t take effort, either,” Connor adds. “If you’re actually interested in someone, it’s like. It’s kind of the best thing ever, listening to them talk about shit they’re passionate about. It shouldn’t be a chore. It should be something you like...look forward to, y’know?”

Evan _does_ know.

He scoots forward a little on his desk chair, which wobbles precariously, threatening to dump Evan onto the floor.

“Yeah,” he says, and suddenly his mouth feels kind of dry. “Yeah, no...I get you.”

“And can I just say: _fuck_ negging. Fuck negging so _so_ hard. That shit is _disgusting_. If you like someone, you treat them with respect. No insults. No back-handed compliments. None of that hard-to-get bullshit. Not ever. You build them _up_, you don’t knock them _down_.”

“Yeah,” Evan says again, feeling a bit like a broken record. “Yeah, that’s...yeah. Yeah.”

“And building them up, that means sticking around for the hard shit. Like. Recognizing they’re a _person,_ not just whatever batshit idealized version you have of them in your head. They’re not gonna be sunshine and rainbows twenty-four seven. They’re gonna have bad days. And if you actually give two shits about someone, you support them with that.”

Evan is going to nod his head clean off. He’s sure of it. 

But he pauses for a moment, because.

Connor hasn’t...exactly answered the question. Not really. He’s sort of skated around it, skimmed over the surface. But in terms of...actually asking someone out?

He hasn’t said shit.

“So,” Evan says, halting and tentative. “OK, but like. How would you, um. Actually, like...ask someone?”

Connor lets out an awkward breath of laughter.

He rubs the back of his neck, quickly redirecting his gaze out Evan’s open window, and Evan swears he sees his cheeks turn just ever-so-slightly pink.

If Evan didn’t know any better, he might even go so far as to call Connor’s expression...kind of bashful? 

Almost... _shy?_

“I dunno. Honestly, my plan of attack would kind of be, like. Once all that trust and shit is built up, just...start dropping a few suggestive comments here and there and test the waters. Nothing gross or sleazy or anything, just...y’know. A bit of healthy flirtation. And hope they get the point. Then if they’re interested, they can make the first move and the pressure’s off _me.”_

Evan laughs out loud at this, and Connor chuckles along with him, still wearing that strangely timid little smile as he stares wistfully out of Evan’s window.

His cheeks are decidedly pinker than they were before, and Evan’s definitely not imagining it now; the rosiness blooms all the way up to the tips of Connor’s ears, and he seems to be just. Radiating heat, all of a sudden. Evan can practically sense his rising temperature from all the way across the room. 

“You look hot,” Evan tells him mildly, stretching his arms over his head to loosen the tension in his spine.

Oddly enough, Connor’s eyes widen comically at this, and his attention shifts instantly to Evan, mouth agape.

“I..._what?”_

“Hot,” Evan repeats dumbly, a little bewildered by Connor’s reaction. “Do you...want me to turn on the air?”

“I...oh. The air, right. Uh. Nah, I should...I should probably head home. Homework.”

Evan snorts.

“As if you’re actually gonna do your homework.”

“Fuck you,” says Connor cheerfully.

So Connor goes. Evan returns to surfing around on Reddit until his mom gets home, but it feels strangely lonely without Connor there, even though they hadn’t really been talking all that much. There’s just such an obvious lack of him somehow; like there’s a Connor-shaped hole in his bedroom that ought to be filled. Like a jigsaw puzzle with the last piece missing.

But it’s more than that, too. 

It’s...weird.

Evan’s not sure what or why or how, but something about their conversation earlier had felt...oddly incomplete. It’s left an unsettled sort of feeling hanging in the air, heavy and thick, an unfamiliar awkwardness. Not that Evan’s unused to feeling awkward, but this is just. Different.

Evan feels listless; uncomfortable, almost, and his brain keeps searching aimlessly for the reason. It’s like being told a riddle, but never hearing the answer.

Heidi arrives home around nine, takeout bags looped over each arm and an enduring smile on her face. She looks exhausted, but she’s pleased to see him, like she always is.

“Chipotle,” she announces ceremoniously. “Hope you’re hungry.”

And the unusual sense of tension wriggling around in Evan’s nerves eases, just a bit.

His mom’s pretty good at that. 

They forgo a proper meal at the table (_It’s Friday night_, is Heidi’s reasoning), and dig into their burrito bowls in the living room, the TV droning quietly in the background. Heidi spills guac on the sofa, and swears in a whisper as she mops it up with napkins, and then teasingly blames _Evan_ for having the idea to eat in the living room, laughing at his expression of mock-outrage.

And the tension eases a little more.

“No Connor today?” Heidi asks, still rubbing aggressively at the avocado stain with a fistful of dry napkins.

“No, he was here,” says Evan. “He left before you came home.”

Evan’s face feels warm, suddenly.

“Have fun?” 

“Yeah. He’s...great. Easy to talk to.”

Heidi smiles, a genuine smile that goes all the way up to her eyes.

“That’s great, honey. Connor seems like a good kid. A good friend for you.”

“Yeah. He’s. A good friend,” Evan parrots.

A good friend with lips Evan stares at way too often with an extra large serving of Yearning. 

But a good friend nonetheless.

“So, what’d you get up to this afternoon?”

Evan digs aimlessly through his burrito bowl with a half-shrug.

“Just hung out. It was mostly Connor complaining about pick-up artists, I guess.”

Heidi screws up her nose.

“God, is that still a thing?”

“Unfortunately. Connor hates it. He says it’s sexist and gross and not even the right way to go about asking out someone you like anyway.”

Heidi nods sagely. “Told you he’s a good kid.”

They lapse into companionable silence as they eat. Evan half-watches the TV, but it’s part way through an episode of some crime show and he’s got no clue what’s going on.

“So,” says Heidi, her voice tinged with warm amusement, “according to Connor Murphy, what _is_ the right way to go about getting a date? I could use some pointers in my old age.”

“You’re not_ that_ old,” Evan says with a grin.

“Gee, thanks kiddo.”

Evan snorts, shakes his head at her a little.

“He says he’s not the type to make the first move. Like, he’d just drop hints and wait for the other person to do it.”

And for some reason, Heidi looks positively tickled by that. 

She purses her lips firmly together like she’s trying not to laugh, and her eyes sweep over Evan in clear bemusement.

“There’s some obvious flaws in that.”

“Like what?”

“Like what if the other person isn’t really the type to make the first move either? Or if they’re...maybe a little clueless with that sort of thing and they don’t get all the hints?”

Evan shakes his head.

“Connor wouldn’t be interested in like. An airhead. He’s _smart_.”

“No, I’m not saying an _airhead,_ just…”

Heidi pauses, like she’s carefully considering what to say and how to say it.

“I mean...maybe just someone who’s..._inexperienced_ when it comes to dating. So they don’t really know what signs to look for. Or someone who’s...who perhaps doesn’t have the most positive view of themself, even though they might be a wonderful person. I think someone like that might miss all the hints because they wouldn’t even _consider_ themselves to be somebody’s crush. _‘Why would anyone like me?’ ,_ you know?”

Evan lets out a huff of self-deprecating laughter.

“That’s...that sounds way too familiar, honestly,” he admits, because he’s been making a point to communicate with his mom more about this kind of thing. Like, his mental health, and the way he views himself and stuff. It helps.

Heidi gives him that secretly-amused look again.

“Does it?” she asks, deliberately casual.

Evan’s lost.

“I...yeah? That’s...I can definitely relate, you know?”

“Hm,” says Heidi. “That’s funny. Isn’t that funny?”

She stands, collecting all the trash left over from their dinner, piling it all into the takeaway bag with a surreptitious little smile on her face. 

Evan’s still lost.

“Um..._what’s_ funny?”

Heidi ruffles his hair affectionately as she goes to leave.

“OK," says Heidi. "Maybe a _bit_ of an airhead, actually.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Evan’s mental discomfort only worsens, after the weird interaction with Heidi.
> 
> It’s not quite an anxiety attack; not quite that awful feeling of sinking into the ground and being forcefully yanked into the air all at the same time. 
> 
> It’s just...discomfort. Like there’s something Evan should be getting that he isn’t. Like one of those brain teaser puzzles,“How many triangles are in this image?” type of thing, and even though Evan’s counted them all he can’t help the niggling feeling that there’s one he’s missed. That exact feeling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK so it's looking like this is gonna be a THREE parter guys! I had a lot of fun with this chapter but full disclosure; I haven't started part three yet AT ALL, so it might take a minute to finish this story up!
> 
> Thank you SO SO very much for all the lovely feedback; I'm so glad you've enjoyed it so far! Things are only gonna get fluffier and fluffier as this bad boy progresses so if fluff is your jam, stay tuned!
> 
> Tumblr: @theyellowestmustard (come chat!)  
TW: descriptions of panic attacks, but that's it!
> 
> <3

* * *

Evan’s mental discomfort only worsens, after the weird interaction with Heidi.

It’s not quite an anxiety attack; not quite that awful feeling of sinking into the ground and being forcefully yanked into the air all at the same time. 

It’s just...discomfort. Like there’s something Evan should be _ getting _ that he _ isn’t. _Like one of those brain teaser puzzles,“How many triangles are in this image?” type of thing, and even though Evan’s counted them all he can’t help the niggling feeling that there’s one he’s missed. That exact feeling.

He stares blankly at the living room wall, brain working at a mile a minute, mentally running through the information he’s gathered; the facts, looking for..._ anything _, really. Clues, or links between them? 

He doesn’t even _ know _what he’s looking for, is the problem.

He wonders briefly if he ought to write everything down, make like...a list. Or something. But he knows his brain is working too fast for his fingers to keep up, so he settles for just sitting, staring, probably looking like a complete weirdo as he analyses and processes and tears the entire afternoon apart in his head.

  1. _ Connor thinks pick up artists are sexist and gross._

This is a good thing. Evan’s glad about that. Evan _ also _thinks pick up artists are sexist and gross.

  1. _ Connor thinks it’s better to get to know a person before asking them out. To see if you’re compatible. Likes and dislikes and hobbies and aspirations. And that you should show a real, genuine interest in all of that; one that’s not based on ulterior motives._

Which...definitely makes sense to Evan. 

That feeling of being known, of being _ appreciated _ as a person is so important. Evan doesn’t think he’d ever be able to make a real connection with _ anyone _without that, honestly. 

Not that he has much experience with this stuff.

But Connor is a good example of that, Evan supposes. Like...when he and Connor first started hanging out, Evan remembers Connor asking him tons of questions. And like. Actually _ caring _about his answers; actively listening to him, and using whatever Evan said as a springboard to keep the conversation going, smooth and organically. Rather than, like. Just waiting for his turn to speak.

He’d made Evan feel...worthwhile. Like he was _ worth _listening to.

Connor had got him talking about trees, maybe the fourth or fifth time they’d had lunch together. 

Evan remembers it clearly, because he’d completely fucking embarrassed himself. 

Once Evan had started talking he hadn’t stopped, for like, an uncomfortable amount of time, and then he’d apologized, over and over again, because Connor was probably bored out of his mind, and they barely even knew each other and now they were _ never _ going to get to know each other, because Evan had _ definitely _ just fucked up what was probably his one and only chance at making an actual friend in senior year, because who the _ fuck _ would give a shit about _ rainbow eucalyptus trees _ except somebody as weird and awkward and socially inept as _ Evan? _

But Connor had just laughed off his stuttered string of apologies like it was _ nothing. _

And then, grinning. He’d said:

“You’re full of shit, Hansen. Pics or I’m gonna have to claim Fake News.”

So Evan had pulled out his phone and Googled rainbow eucalyptus trees so Connor could see the photographs for himself; see the peeling strips of glorious colors all down the trunks, like drizzles of acrylic paint.

And Connor had gone all wide-eyed with astonishment, swiping through photo after photo on Evan’s phone, going ‘_ dude, dude no _ _ way _ _ , these are amazing’ _ and _ ‘what makes the bark _ _ get _ _ like that, though?’ _ and ‘ _ this is the gayest fucking tree I’ve ever seen in my _ _ life.' _

And then, as part of his nature study project in art, Connor had filled a full canvas with rainbow eucalyptus trees. 

Gorgeously streaked with every color, stretching towards the glow of a pale silver sky. 

And he’d given it to Evan. 

Like, after it had been graded, and he’d gotten to take it home. 

He’d given it to Evan, because he knew how much Evan had liked it. 

Which…

Huh.

That’s…

Huh.

It’s...interesting, is all. An interesting coincidence; the overlap of this one particular scenario and Connor’s phrasing earlier that afternoon. 

It’s..._ wishful thinking _, is what it is.

Evan needs to focus, before he gets too off track.

  1. _ Connor hates negging. Connor says that if you care about someone, you treat them with respect. Always._

Which...Evan had already known that, really. 

Evan doesn’t think he's ever heard Connor say a bad word about him. 

Well. He _ has. _Sometimes Connor will call him a dumbass. Or like. Fuckface or something. But it's always said with such teasing affection, such a lack of any real malice, with this big toothy grin and this warmth in the crinkles around his eyes. 

So Evan doesn't think that really counts.

He’s never _ ever _ said anything... _ actually _ cruel to Evan before. Not since that first day, that _ “You’re the fucking freak,” _rippling with fury and paranoia. 

But since then, since _ really _ getting to know Evan, he’s never called him annoying, or pathetic, or boring, or stupid, or a _ fucking freak, _ even though Evan _ is _ all of those things. 

If anything, Connor is almost..._ overly _kind to him?

Connor showers Evan with more compliments than he could ever possibly deserve.

Little things, usually. Just casually dropped into conversation like it’s obvious.

_ How the fuck is there room in your brain for so much nature stuff? Your memory is insane, dude. _

Or, while choking on laughter:

_ You’re so funny, oh my god. Seriously, I swear nobody else in our class is this funny. Fuck, you’ve killed me. _

(Evan wishes he could remember what he had said, to make Connor laugh like that.)

They’re not always _ little _ compliments, though. That’s the thing. 

Sometimes Connor will just dump the most astoundingly wonderful collection of words right into Evan’s lap like it’s nothing, like it’s _ true, _ and Evan never has any idea how to respond because _ how, _ how are you meant to respond when somebody as _ wonderful _ as _ Connor Fucking Murphy _ says something...something like _ that _ , just out of the blue, simple and matter-of-fact, and to _ Evan _ , Evan of _ all people? _

_ Pfffft, like I’d ever get tired of listening to you talk. You’re _ _ interesting _ _ , OK? I _ _ like _ _ listening to you. Keep going. _

_ Jesus Christ, can you _ _ stop _ _ calling yourself stupid please? You’re the smartest person I know and also the absolute kindest and you fucking _ _ don’t _ _ deserve to hear that shit, not even from yourself, OK? _

_ You might be the most genuine person I’ve ever met, y’know? Like. I feel sorry for all the assholes in our school who’ve never made the effort to get to know you. They’re missing out. _

_ You’re my favorite fuckin’ human being, OK? Eleven-out-of-ten human. Favorite. _

And Evan will stammer out a response, usually to the effect of “No, you.”

Because it’s the truth, and also because Evan doesn’t know what else to say.

Not without giving away how he feels about Connor, anyway.

  1. _ Connor says you need to be able to take the bad with the good; to recognize that your crush is a __person__, and to be there for them even when they’re having a bad time._

Evan knows all about having a bad time.

Before Connor came along, his entire existence was pretty much...one big, extended Bad Time.

And even having Connor in his life now, which he’s so _ so _ grateful for...it doesn’t make it go away. He still has days where he wakes up scared for _ no fucking reason _ , still overthinks every move he makes when he walks down the hall at school, still feels eyes on him, _ judging _him every fucking second, still feels his heart in his throat and his head and his hands and his knees; his heart beating there, in his knees, under his skin, turning his legs to jelly and prickling the corners of his eyes until he’s. He’s just.

Until he’s crying in the bathroom like the mess that he is, shaking and gasping, clinging desperately to whatever shred of sanity he has left, fighting to even out his breathing as he waits for it to end.

And Connor's there. 

It only takes a text, and Connor's there within five minutes. Without fail. Like. To the point he's straight-up walked out of class if his teacher at the time won't give him a bathroom pass, and then _ Connor _ gets into trouble and it's _ Evan's fault… _

But he's there. Always. 

And he rubs Evan's arms, and counts Evan's breaths, and holds Evan's hand, sometimes. And he tells Evan that everything is going to be OK. 

And he sits with Evan on the cold, sticky bathroom floor until Evan believes him.

Once he'd even gone so far as to skip school entirely to drive Evan home, on a day where it'd been really bad and Evan had just felt too wrecked to function after the attack had passed. And then stayed with him. Like, all afternoon. Just swiveling around in Evan's desk chair, talking softly, aimlessly, not expecting Evan to have the mental energy to say anything back.

Just saying enough to let Evan know he wasn't alone.

Evan didn't deserve that.

Evan doesn't deserve a friend like Connor. 

But, like...he can't help but wonder if Connor would do something like that for _ anyone _, or…

Or if it's just _ Evan? _

No. 

No.

Just because Connor says that he'd support his crush through difficult shit, and he supports _ Evan _ through difficult shit, that's…

No.

That's neither here nor there, really.

Connor would support anyone he cared about, on any level. Platonic or romantic or like...family. Anyone. He would. That’s just who Connor is.

And Evan, wishing hoping _pitiful_ Evan, is _clearly _forgetting the fifth thing. Chapter Five of Connor's little how-to guide to romance.

  1. _ Connor wouldn’t make the first move, but he __would __start dropping hints. “A bit of healthy flirtation”, just enough to test the waters._

And…

And Connor’s never flirted with Evan. Obviously.

Evan’s pretty sure he would’ve noticed something like _ that. _

Of course Connor hasn’t flirted with Evan. Of course not. Why would he? 

Why would _ anyone _, honestly?

Evan’s gawky and stuttery and sweaty and he’s only just recently started to figure out how _ not _ to dress like he’s forty years old. And he’s fidgety, and he bites his nails, and his voice always comes out too high and breathy and boyish, and he has this ugly habit of squinching up his face when he gets nervous, which is _ always. _So Evan lives his life with his eyes squeezed shut while the rest of him shudders and shakes, sweating through his old-man clothes and wheezing out apologies for existing.

Which is just. The epitome of attractive, for sure.

_ Nobody _ flirts with Evan. Nobody ever has, and Evan doesn’t blame them.

Like.

The closest thing to a flirtatious comment that Evan’s ever had thrown his way was probably that time Evan and Connor had been hanging out and, for some stupid reason, Evan had wanted to see if Connor could catch a Swedish Fish in his mouth from the other side of the room. 

So Evan had picked one out of the bag and said _ ‘hey, open your mouth.’ _

And Connor, eyes alight with mischief, had said _‘wow, buy me a drink first’, _which had sent Evan off spluttering and stammering, and Connor had positively _cackled _at his reaction, and...

And that definitely doesn’t count, because Connor had been joking.

Just like that other time they’d been studying together, and Evan had had a minor breakdown because he completely _ sucked _ at Spanish, he just didn’t have an ear for languages at _ all, _ and there was an oral component of the exam which meant that Evan had to _ talk in front of people _ , which had led to him practically pulling his hair out and miserably ranting to Connor that he was _ ‘completely useless, Connor, I’m bad at _ _ everything _ _ .’ _

And Connor had given him that cheeky look again, and gone _ ‘hey, bad boys are hot, though. Ten out of ten Connors agree’. _

Or that time they’d fallen down the rabbit hole of ridiculous Buzzfeed quizzes, which had led to them discussing which animals they thought they _ really _were. 

Evan had insisted that he was a slug. Or like. A blobfish. Something slimy and gross and pointless. Something rarely seen, and for good reason.

And Connor had been _ outraged _ about that, going _ ‘Um, no, no fucking way, shut _ _ up. _ _ You’re wrong, so. You're so _ _ obviously _ _ a corgi, Evan. Fuck.’ _

And when Evan had asked why, why a _ corgi _, Connor’s explanation had been:

_ ‘Cute as fuck. Fit for royalty. I really want one but that’s probably never gonna happen.’ _

  
  


Or the time…

  
  


Or the time…

  
  


Wait.

  
  


Wait, fuck. _ What? _

  
  


_ ‘I really want one but that’s probably never gonna happen.’ _

  
  


At the time, Evan remembers nodding a little. 

Because like. Connor's backyard was probably too small for a corgi. And besides, Cynthia's allergic to dogs, so.

But…

But Connor didn't mean…

Connor _ couldn't _ have meant…that what he _ really _wanted was...was...

No. 

Surely. Surely Evan is not _ that _ fucking clueless. Surely.

  
  


  1. _ This evening, Heidi seemed to imply that Evan is an airhead._

Fuck.

  
  


_ Heidi also suggested that Connor's how-to guide to getting dates was flawed, because if Connor liked an airhead, they would never understand any of Connor's hints and so would never make the first move. _

  
  


…Fuck . 

  
  


And just like that, Evan's connect-the-dot picture comes together, and it's hesitant and fragile but it's there all the same, and his heart is slamming in his chest and his vision blurs and his mouth just immediately dries up and for some reason he's also hit with the inexplicable urge to swallow, so he tries but he can't because his mouth is too dry, and fuck. Fuck.

  
  


Fuck, holy _ fuck _.

  
  


Is...is Evan Connor's airhead?

  
  


The weight of his self-loathing instantly tells him no. Absolutely not. That he shouldn't even _ dare _ to hope.

But…

But lately Dr Sherman's been wanting him to try 'examining the evidence' when he feels anxious or negative about something. To look solely at the facts, rather than letting the grating little voice in his head take control.

And the facts, the evidence…

When Evan puts it all together, it really does look like...does _ seem like… _

Evan's heart rate is rapidly spinning out of control, and something in his chest, in his belly, is fluttering restlessly like it's trying to escape. His hands are trembling, and his knees are trembling, and everything is trembling, all over. And he...he _ feels _ like an airhead, in a very literal sense; like his skull is just filled with empty air, so light and buoyant that he might float away like a human hot air balloon.

What does he do _ now? _ What is he supposed to _ do? _

Heidi's right when she says Evan's not the type to make the first move. He really isn't. For so many reasons; the main one being that he still... doesn't trust all this yet. Doesn't trust that Connor might actually like him that way, trust that he's not just built a whole imaginary scenario out of nothing.

But he _ can't _ just...keep going like everything's normal. Like everything's platonic, and that he’s OK with that _ . _

Not if there's a chance that Connor might…

Fuck.

Fuck. What does he _ do? _

Evan strategizes well into the night.

Each idea is almost immediately dismissed.

He could try dropping some comments of his own, flirting _ back _ , now that he recognizes he’s actually being flirted with _ ? _ But Evan would have no idea what to say; he doesn’t know _ how _to do that, he’s not charismatic like Connor is and he’s not good with subtleties and he’d probably end up sticking his foot in his mouth and straight-up telling Connor how attractive he is.

Would that be such a bad thing? Maybe Evan should just..._ do _that; come right out and say it. Be bold, for once in his life.

But he can’t, he can’t do that, because there’s still a pretty big part of him that’s convinced he’s just...fabricated this whole idea. That Connor’s not actually interested in him.

He briefly considers asking for advice with the whole thing, but it’s only when his phone is in his hands that he realizes the person he usually goes to for advice is Connor himself. 

So that’s out.

It takes a long time, a long stretch of replay and rewind and careful analysis, before Evan knows what he’s going to do. How he’s going to broach the subject.

He thinks he knows. He’s pretty sure. Maybe.

His heart doesn’t stop racing, not for hours. Sleep doesn’t come easily.

When it does, Evan dreams in lists. Lists and how-to guides; step by step by step. 

He’s always considered himself pretty good at following instructions. 

Recipes and procedures; that kind of thing. He’s thorough. 

He takes a long time looking over the steps before he starts; figuring everything out, making sure there’s nothing important that he’s missing.

And now, for whatever reason, he’s been given the blueprints to Connor’s heart. 

And he’s checked. 

And he’s got a plan.

And he’s ready. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Well, you. You say you'd drop a bunch of hints and wait for...for them to like...do the heavy lifting, but. But what if the other person isn’t really the type to make the first move either? Or if they, just… they don’t get the hints?”
> 
> Connor scoffs at him, kind of rolls his eyes.
> 
> "What, you think I'd be interested in an idiot?"
> 
> "No," says Evan.
> 
> Yes, thinks Evan. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THANK YOU FOR YOUR PATIENCE!
> 
> I'm so sorry this took me over a MONTH to finish. The truth is that while Chapter 2 Evan had a plan, turns out YellowMustard, uh. Didn't. Like, at all. Whoops.
> 
> BUT WE GOT THERE EVENTUALLY.
> 
> Thank you AGAIN for all your support omgggg. I've been neglecting my inbox lately but I'll be going through soon and answering all the beautiful comments. Thank you thank you thank you. Love you muchly.
> 
> TW: Nothing that I can think of? But as always, if you spot something I've missed please don't be afraid to tell me so I can tag it xx
> 
> Come chat! I'm on Christmas break and I'm bored and lonely: theyellowestmustard.tumblr.com/

* * *

When Connor sits on the floor with his legs crossed, he does this thing where he tucks his feet under his thighs, wriggles them right in towards his butt so they disappear. 

It looks so uncomfortable, but Connor clearly likes it just fine. He seems to do it almost on autopilot, rocking forward and shuffling his feet in like it’s second nature, like that’s how cross-legged sitting  _ works.  _

It’s weird _ .  _

Connor’s just...

He’s weird. 

Connor’s weird and he doesn’t know how to sit cross-legged like a normal person, and he wears nail polish and odd socks and he grows his hair long and once when he was high he called a slice of pizza a “Blessed Triangle.”

And Evan is completely, totally,  _ stupidly  _ gone for him. 

And there’s maybe-possibly-hopefully a teeny-tiny-itty-bitty  _ shred  _ of a chance that Connor feels the same way.

Maybe.

And today Evan is going to  _ attempt  _ to figure that situation out.  _ Without _ making a complete fool of himself.

That’s, like. The plan, anyway.

Evan’s never really been all that good at sticking to the script, though. 

Which doesn’t exactly bode well for him.

He sneaks yet another quick glance in Connor’s direction, getting just the barest glimpse of him in his peripheral vision. He’s wearing one black sock and one with neon green stripes, and he’s doing that shuffley thing with his feet, wriggling them in until the mismatched socks disappear, rocking up onto his knees as he blows into his mug, masking his face with the rising steam. He takes one very small, cautious sip of still-scalding hot cocoa, flinches when the liquid burns his tongue and then, for some bizarre reason, tries again and flinches a  _ second  _ time.

Evan resists the urge to snort.

He quickly redirects his eyes to his phone when he realizes just how  _ long  _ he’s been looking at Connor, scrolling blindly through whatever-the-fuck app he’s got open as nonchalantly as possible. 

_ Careful,  _ Evan tells himself.  _ Careful. _

"Oh hey,” Connor says suddenly, breaking the almost-but-not-quite comfortable silence in the room, which was probably more than comfortable for Connor but not so much for Evan because of a very long list of reasons. “Did you ever end up reading that Reddit thing I sent you?"

It takes Evan way too long to backtrack to yesterday and figure out what the hell Connor is talking about.

"Oh...no, I um. I didn't."

"Rude," says Connor, but he’s giving Evan this big, unbothered grin. "Crazy shit. You need to read it."

"I...yeah, no. I will.” Evan says. “I  _ meant  _ to, just...got a little distracted yesterday. You know. Jared's whole, uh. Video. Thingy."

_ Thingy.  _ OK, Evan.

"Right," Connor says, on a sort of breathy laugh. “Right, yeah."

And this. This is the exact topic of conversation Evan needs to get this thing moving. 

This might be Evan's only chance.

He keeps his eyes glued to his phone, still swiping mindlessly, barely even noticing that he’s somehow managed to close the app that was open and is now just dragging repetitively through his phone’s home screens.

He clears his throat, and hopes it comes across as casual.

It doesn’t.

He’s sweating.

"So, uh. I was. I had this thought."

"Hm?"

Evan hears Connor wince through another sip of his too-hot drink.

He vaguely wonders if Connor’s just...far more passionate about hot cocoa than he originally thought, or if he’s just looking for something to do with his hands.

"About your plan. On how to like...tell someone you like them, or ask someone out, or whatever."

There’s a long, drawn-out moment of quiet.

It’s not quite a silence, because Evan’s heart is hammering away so loudly he’s certain the next door neighbors are going to complain about the noise. 

"...Yeah?" Connor eventually says, suspiciously. He drags out the ‘y’, so it sounds more like  _ ‘eeeeeyyyyeah’. _

"Well, I was just thinking that there's, like. There's some obvious flaws in it, don't you think?"

And OK.

So the words aren’t Evan’s, exactly. 

They’re Heidi’s. His mom’s words, coming out of Evan’s mouth, a little too fast and high-pitched to be conversational and easy-going like Evan was aiming for.

_ Chill _ , he tells himself, and he doesn’t.

Connor’s brows pull together a bit. Not like he’s angry; more like he’s thinking. Like he doesn’t understand.

"What do you mean?"

Evan sucks back a deep breath.

"Well, you. You say you'd drop a bunch of hints and wait for...for  _ them _ to like...do the heavy lifting, but. But what if the other person isn’t really the type to make the first move either? Or if they, just… they don’t  _ get _ the hints?”

Connor scoffs at him, kind of rolls his eyes.

"What, you think I'd be interested in an  _ idiot?" _

"No," says Evan.

_ Yes,  _ thinks Evan. 

He  _ hopes _ so, anyway.

"No, just... just someone who...who doesn't really know what signs to look for. Or someone who knows they aren't good enough to be, um. Liked. In that way. Someone who's never been liked before. So they don't, uh. They don't imagine that they could…"

Connor is staring at him.

It feels like the wind is knocked out of him the second he becomes aware of it, his voice weakening away to nothing.

Connor’s expression is unreadable, which is more unnerving than Evan would care to admit, but there’s something gentle about the glacial silver of his eyes. Something soft.

Evan finds himself staring right back.

Probably with his mouth hanging open.

_ Get it together _ , he tells himself.  _ Get your fucking shit together, OK? _

"That...that they could ever…”

Connor is still looking at him intently, like there’s something to read in Evan’s expression; something to figure out. It makes him feel like he’s been caught with one hand in the cookie jar; exposed and guilty, like he ought to run, to make up some excuse, to  _ stop fucking talking, abort mission, abort abort abort. _

“Like...yeah," he finishes lamely; nonsensically.

He glances down at his phone again, and when he looks back up Connor hasn’t looked away. But he’s frowning now; squinting a little like Evan has said something he doesn’t like. 

Evan’s blood runs cold then hot then cold again.

"Why would they think they aren't good enough?" Connor asks.

"Well, just. In comparison to  _ y--" _

Fuck. 

Fuck fuck fuck _ \-- _

"Y-Y'know,” Evan manages to squeak out at the last possible second, saving himself from the almost-slip-up by the skin of his teeth.

His shirt is sticking to his shoulder blades uncomfortably, and his brain just keeps on repeating  _ fuck fuck fuck  _ like a stuck record.

“Y’know,” Evan says again, sounding way too much like Connor himself. “Compared to...to  _ other people. _ Who are just. So  _ obviously  _ attractive, and funny and smart and kind and thoughtful. They might just think they’d never have a chance.”

Evan’s not sure whether to congratulate himself on an expert save, or to kick himself for saying way,  _ way  _ too much.

Connor purses his lips, rolling the bottom one back and forth as he considers this.

Then he lets out an abrupt exhale through his nose, shaking his head in amusement.

“That’s dumb,” he says bluntly, smiling faintly. “I feel like I’m about as subtle as a falling brick. I seriously doubt  _ anyone  _ could miss it, if I was like...interested.”

He punctuates this with a little  _ “y’know?”  _ of his own, then goes back to his cocoa, alternating between blowing into the mug and sipping at it gingerly, both hands wrapped around it like he’s enjoying the warmth. Which he probably is, because Connor’s hands are freezing cold all year round.

Except.

Except maybe he’s not so cold right now, because.

Because his face has turned pleasingly pink; rosy clouds of bloodrush over his cheeks and the bridge of his nose, fanning out to his ears.

Which is. Interesting.

Evan’s brain has  _ not  _ stopped saying  _ fuck fuck fuck.  _

“I dunno,” Evan says carefully, testing out the weight of every single word in his head before he says it and then  _ still  _ doubting himself. “I dunno, I think if you...if you  _ liked  _ someone you’d maybe...underestimate how dumb they are.”

Connor chuckles gently.

“Don’t think so,” he murmurs, staring into his mug. “I dunno. Maybe.”

He’s quiet for a while. They both are. 

The atmosphere is...weird. Tense, kind of, because Evan’s heart is growing more thunderous with each passing second and he’s still violently flip-flopping between  _ Connor likes him it’s obvious it’s so so obvious  _ and  _ absolutely not and Evan should fling himself into oncoming traffic for even hoping. _

But it doesn’t seem all that tense for Connor. Because he looks wistful and daydreamy, but also kind of... _ sad?  _ Like there’s something weighing on him; some sort of heavy melancholy, dragging him down.

Connor shifts a little, and the barest glimpse of blinding green sock appears from under his thigh. 

He opens his mouth to speak.

And shit, no. No. Evan can’t let him change the subject. 

Not when he’s this close to  _ knowing. _

“I mean,” Evan blurts out. “I mean...maybe you should, like. Explain it to me more. Explain how you’d go about showing someone you like them, and what you’d do. So I can tell you if I think someone...like, a dumb person. Would, um. Get it.”

He’s put Connor on the spot, he knows. He’s got him cornered, which very well could work in his favor. But he also knows what can happen when Connor feels cornered; when he feels trapped.

It’s risky. This is risky.

“I’ve already told you what I--”

“No, I mean. A specific example. There’s gotta be a time you’ve tried at least  _ part  _ of this strategy out, right?” 

Evan speaks with casual bravado; with such make-believe confidence, and he’s certain Connor will see right through it.

But he pushes on. He’s already started on this route, now. 

“I mean, there’s no way you’ve made it to your senior year of high school without catching feelings for  _ anyone ever.” _

There’s a pause.

Then Connor snickers.

“‘ _ Catching feelings’?” _

Evan feels his face heat.

“Shut up,” he mutters, his confidence ripped away like a bandaid. “Whatever.”

Connor laughs. It’s a warm, open sound, and even though it’s at Evan’s expense he can’t help the grin that spreads across his face, an almost automatic response to Connor’s laughter.

“Like,” says Evan, not about to give up on this. “What’s something  _ specific  _ that you’ve…?”

“I mean...I liked this boy when I was about seven or eight. First ever crush. And I didn’t know what to do about it but I really wanted to impress him so I told him I was secretly a ninja turtle and every night I would sneak out of my house and beat up bad guys.”

Evan’s grin widens, and he fights back the giggle that’s started to work its way up from his chest.

“Which turtle?”

“Raphael,  _ obviously _ .”

“Did he buy it?”

“Yeah, for a little while. Then it all came crashing down when he started asking to meet Splinter. I kept stalling and making up excuses and eventually he lost interest in me.”

Connor lets out this big, melodramatic sigh and stares mournfully at his knees. 

Evan’s giggle wobbles its way out.

“A romantic tragedy for the ages,” he tells Connor, and Connor smirks.

“His loss, honestly.”

“Definitely,” says Evan, without thinking.

Without thinking.

Shit.

Fuck, shit.

_ Definitely _ , why did he say  _ definitely,  _ shit fuck shit.

Connor’s eyes flick to him curiously, but he says nothing.

Evan clears his throat. 

Connor looks away.

“OK, but there’s. There’s gotta be something more recent. Than your, um. Web of superhuman reptilian lies.”

“Cool band name,” says Connor casually, picking at a rip in his jeans. “ _ Web Of Superhuman Reptilian Lies…” _

He’s deflecting.

And Evan just. Really  _ really  _ needs him to answer the question.

So Evan doesn’t respond. Doesn’t engage. He just. Waits.

Connor pulls a thread loose from his jeans, then rolls it into a little ball between his thumb and forefinger.

He takes a quiet breath in, then lets it out in a  _ whoosh. _

“Um. I mean, I guess there’s. Some stuff. I dunno,” he mumbles, tentatively.

He glances up, barely for a second, but he doesn’t look at Evan. He looks up, kind of behind him, like he’s too afraid to make eye contact. And as quickly as it’s happened it’s over, and he’s back to staring at his knees.

“Like…?” says Evan, and he’s certain the gigantic lump in his throat is his own heart. 

Connor peeks up again, eyes flicking to the exact same spot as before and then immediately darting back down.

Like.

Like there’s something in particular he’s looking at.

Evan spins slowly around in his desk chair, eyes following the same path, glancing up to the shelf behind where Evan is sitting, right above the crappy IKEA desk where he does his homework.

The shelf where there’s a painting, balanced precariously and leaning against the wall.

Rainbow eucalyptus trees. Flayed strips of bright bark, texture on texture on texture, standing tall and strong and beautiful.

Made to order, just for Evan.

Evan’s brain says  _ fuck fuck fuck _ , almost perfectly in synch with his frenzied heartbeat. 

“There’s heaps of specific examples, I guess,” comes a soft, tremulous voice from behind Evan’s back. “But, um. There was this one guy."

“This one guy…” Evan echoes dazedly. 

He doesn’t dare take his eyes off the painting.

“Yeah, and. He, um. You know how I talked about, like...appreciating interests and stuff?”

Evan nods stiffly at the canvas.

“Well. Yeah. I wanted to. Show him I was paying attention, I suppose? That I actually  _ cared  _ about the stuff he cared about. And…”

Connor’s voice is shaking. He clears his throat roughly, perhaps in an attempt to steady it. It doesn’t work.

“And...more than that, I...I wanted to give him something pretty.”

Then, so softly Evan almost wonders if he’s imagined it.

“...He deserves pretty things.”

“Like you?”

And.

Shit.

What the  _ fuck _ is Evan  _ doing? _

Connor hadn’t actually explicitly said anything about the painting, the rainbow trees; hadn’t even mentioned Evan by name, he could be talking about fucking  _ anything, _ about  _ anyone, _ and Evan could’ve  _ completely  _ misinterpreted this whole situation and here he is, just casually  _ blurting out that he thinks his best friend is  _ _ pretty _ _ what the fuck? _

Connor is silent.

Evan can’t hear him slurping at his cocoa anymore; can barely even hear him breathe. It’s so quiet he’s almost afraid for a moment that Connor’s bolted.

It’s unbearable.

And it’s suddenly just as unbearable not being able to see Connor’s face, so.

Slowly, timidly, Evan spins around in his chair.

He kind of feels silly at the action. Like he ought to have a fluffy white cat in his lap, like a Bond villain. Maybe he’ll laugh about it later.

But not right now.

Connor’s wide-eyed, staring at Evan through the hair that’s fallen into his face. His mouth is open, and his cheeks are pink, and he’s just...just  _ sitting  _ there.

And Evan’s terrified little brain screams at him to backpedal, to retreat, to fill the excruciating silence with a  _ just messing with you _ or a  _ no, I meant ‘like you’ as in, you also deserve pretty things because you are my very platonic best friend _ . Just...something. Something so it can all go back to the way it used to be. Safe.

But Evan doesn’t say a word.

“You...what do you mean?” Connor breathes.

Evan swallows hard.

“Like you,” he says, far more resolutely than he feels. “Pretty things like you. You’re...you’re pretty.”

And it’s out there.

It’s out.

And now that it’s out, Evan...kind of can’t  _ stop _ talking, and what the fuck is  _ that  _ all about?

“You’re pretty and  _ I’m _ ...I’m dumb. I’m so dumb I  _ wouldn’t _ notice a falling brick until it hit me in the--in the face, and even then I’d, like. Probably still be like ‘huh, what was that?’. I’m...I wouldn’t notice anyone giving me signals unless they just...just straight out said  _ ‘Evan Airhead Hansen, I am romantically interested in you, yes I’m sure, yes I’m of sound mind, and no I’m not fucking with you.’  _ Like...like, that’s what it would take, for me to…”

Connor hasn’t said anything.

Jesus Christ.

“Not that--” Evan amends in a rush, words dribbling out of him, messy and all laced together. “Not that I’m saying that you’re--that I’m the one you--that you’ve been...with, with  _ me. _ I’m not saying  _ that _ .”

Silence.

“Unless you are,” Evan adds, stupidly.

He’s  _ very  _ aware that he’s talking in circles, rambling in wild, untidy loops like a complete lunatic.  _ I like you, unless you don’t like me, even though you just implied that you do, unless you didn’t, unless you do, unless you don’t… _

“But,” Evan says, stutters, word-pukes. “But, um. Either way, you’re um. You’re pretty. That’s...I’m not taking that back, so.”

Something confident. He’s almost a little proud of himself.

But then, like a total dumbass, he  _ keeps going. _

“And, just. Just so you know, you probably  _ could  _ have negged me. You literally could say anything to me, whatever mean, shitty things you want and I’d probably thank you for just  _ talking  _ to me, because. Yeah. Because you’re  _ you  _ and…and it turns out I am. Into that. You, I mean.”

Stop. He needs to _stop_. 

“I’m...I’ll shut up now. I’m sorry. Sorry, I...probably misread--”

“Evan,” says Connor sharply. 

Evan snaps his mouth shut.

Connor’s still hasn’t closed properly. Not all the way. His lips are ever-so-slightly parted and his eyes are intense and focused and it’s  _ scary  _ because Evan doesn’t know what that means.

He rolls up onto his knees, and crawls across Evan’s floor towards him; closing the distance.

He leaves his mug behind.

“Your cocoa is going to get cold,” Evan says.

God, he’s ridiculous.

“Evan,” says Connor again, quieter this time.

He’s sitting right opposite Evan now; kneeling in front of Evan’s desk chair and staring up at him, and the positioning of them both floods Evan’s face with warmth that he hopes Connor doesn’t see.

And then Connor is gripping one of Evan’s knees tightly, the heat of his palms burning right through Evan’s jeans.

And Evan  _ swears _ that Connor’s hand is trembling.

“Evan,” he says one more time, and Evan is almost getting sick of hearing his own name, and wishes that if Connor is going to let him down gently he’d just get it over and done with.

“Evan Airhead Hansen,” Connor says.

And. That’s.

That’s…

“I am romantically interested in you.”

Connor grabs Evan’s other knee; one held firmly in each quaking hand.

“Yes, I’m sure.”

He shifts, using Evan’s knees to propel himself up, nearer and nearer to Evan’s face.

“Yes, I’m of sound mind.”

He’s so close now that Evan can feel his breath ghosting along his lips.

“And no,” says Connor, resting his forehead against Evan’s; as close as they can possibly get. 

“No, I’m not fucking with you.”

Evan’s brain isn’t saying  _ fuck fuck fuck  _ anymore, because it’s stopped entirely.

For once in his goddamn life, the inside of Evan’s head is silent. 

His heart is pounding and his mouth is dry and he’s shaking. But his brain is just. Blank.

“Oh,” says Evan. “OK.”

“OK,” Connor mimics softly, the corner of his mouth twitching upwards into a tiny smile.

“That’s...OK,” says Evan again, and Connor says, “OK,” and then they just sit there, breathing lightly, heads resting against each other, too afraid to move.

“OK,” Connor says again. “OK, I think I’m gonna like. Put my mouth on your mouth. If that’s cool?”

And Evan wants to laugh at Connor’s weird-ass phrasing, even though it shouldn’t surprise him at all because Connor is  _ weird _ , and he doesn’t know how to sit cross-legged and he drinks cocoa when he  _ knows _ it’s still boiling and of  _ course _ that’s how he’d describe kissing.

Connor is  _ weird.  _

And he likes  _ Evan. _

Evan breathes out a barely-there  _ “Yes,” _ and then Connor’s mouth  _ is  _ on his mouth; just this soft brush of closed lips, hesitant and shy. And then Evan reaches for him, and he doesn’t really know what to do with his hands so he goes with something he’s been  _ wanting  _ to do for months now, and gently cradles Connor’s jaw, fingers creeping up to touch Connor’s cheeks. And Connor sighs (and Evan’s mental  _ fuck fuck fuck  _ is back in full force), and parts his lips  _ (fuck fuck fuck) _ and sinks forward, tilting his head to get the best angle, and then they’re kissing, over and over, all just smooth, warm mouths on mouths, and  _ fuck fuck fuck fuck  _ _ fuck. _

“I can’t believe,” Connor mumbles against Evan’s lips. “That it took you so long to notice. And even then, you  _ still  _ didn’t think that I...You...you’re so  _ dumb.” _

“Negging,” Evan says, and he kisses Connor again and again and again.

“Shut up,” Connor says. He’s laughing, and the vibrations of it tickles Evan’s lips. “Shut up. Asshole.”

“Negging,” Evan says again, and he’s kind of trying to fight back a grin, because teeth would certainly get in the way of what he’s trying to do here. 

“Shut  _ up, _ ” Connor giggles. “I would  _ never.” _

“You just did. Twice.”

“Fair,” Connor smirks, his hands sliding into Evan’s hair, mouth still dragging sweetly against Evan’s in a way that makes Evan’s spine slacken and his limbs all turn to jelly. “OK, so. You get two. Go. Roast me.”

And they both giggle, and kiss some more, which is  _ very  _ nice, and then Evan pulls back and goes:

“OK. You...you sit weird.”

Connor lets out a mock gasp of offense, along with a wounded expression, which Evan just has to kiss away, smiling so big his face hurts.

“Alright, number two?”

“Number two is, um. That you. You have terrible taste in guys.”

And then Connor’s cackling, and going  _ ‘no, nope, absolutely not, take that back’,  _ and then Evan adds  _ ‘ _ _ and  _ _ horrible taste in ninja turtles’ _ and Connor is practically howling in outrage, going  _ ‘no no no--’  _ trying to kiss the smug smile off of Evan’s face and laughing the whole time, and it’s  _ wonderful _ .

They end up sprawled across Evan’s bed, on top of the covers, side by side. Connor reaches over and laces his fingers through Evan’s, squeezing his hand tight, and Evan squeezes back. 

It’s everything Evan has ever wanted.

But it all feels a little unreal.

Evan doesn’t know what this means.

He knows Connor likes him. And he likes Connor.

He knows that Connor is an  _ incredibly  _ good kisser.

But he’s not sure what this means for  _ them.  _

Are they, like. Boyfriends now? And if they are, what changes? What’s different between them?

How does one... _ be  _ a boyfriend, exactly?

“Um,” says Evan, and Connor turns his head to look at him. 

“So, um. I’m not sure what we, uh...what happens now?”

Connor smiles a slow, languid smile. Like the answer is obvious. 

He wriggles closer, so he’s pressed snugly into Evan’s side, his head almost resting on Evan’s shoulder. And he traces a slow, gentle circle on the back of Evan’s hand with his thumb.

“Now,” says Connor, “we read that Reddit thing I sent you. Holding hands.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Gotta hold onto you, y’know. You being an airhead and all. You might float away.”

Evan can’t argue with that.

He might. 

  
  



End file.
